The Gauntlet_Book Two in the Zombie Uprising Series

by M. A. Robbins

  Two vehicles sat side by side in the garage, a shiny late model SUV that looked like it had been driven off the dealer's lot that morning, and a dented green truck with rust stains and a missing front fender. She checked inside each for keys and came away empty-handed.

  Built-in shelving lined the two of the walls, and a workbench sat opposite the garage door. Jen rustled through the loose screws and bolts lying on the bench, the smell of old grease and oil making her sneeze.

  The door to the apartment popped open and Mark stepped through, jingling a set of keys on a ring. "Kitchen drawer, for the win."

  He strode to the SUV and hopped in the driver's seat. "I'll just turn it enough to make sure the battery's still good. No need alerting the zombies before we're ready to leave."

  Doc stuck his head through the door. "There you two are. Grant and I struck out."

  "Mark found some keys. He's about to try them."

  Grant pushed past Doc. "Don't start the car. It'll get attention we don't want right now."

  Mark nodded. "Thanks, Grant. Hadn't thought of that." He winked at Jen.

  Mark slipped the key into the ignition and tried to turn it. It didn't move. He pulled it out. "Maybe that's the key for the back hatch. Let me try this other one." He slid the other key in and twisted. "No dice."

  Jen's eyes went to the junker truck. "You've gotta be kidding me."

  Mark shrugged and got out of the SUV. "Beggars can't be choosers." He opened the truck's door, and it let out a cringe-inducing squeal.

  "Not sure that thing's gonna stay together," Jen said. "Even without trying to ram it through a horde."

  Mark sat in the driver's seat and pushed the key into the slot. He twisted it and the lights came on.

  "Looks like we've got a winner," Grant said.

  Jen frowned. "All four of us won't fit in the cab. Someone will have to sit in the bed."

  Grant raised his hand. "Guess that'll be me."

  "Why do you think that?" Jen asked.

  "You need to drive. You know the area and can react quicker than me if our way gets blocked." Grant nodded at Doc. "Doc has to stay protected. And Mark's the one with the real combat experience." Grant shrugged. "Just thinking about it tactically."

  Mark stuck out his hand and Grant shook it. "What's this for?" Grant asked.

  "Don't let anyone ever tell you that you aren't a real soldier," Mark said. "Now get in the back."

  Grant smiled and hauled himself into the truck bed.

  Mark unlatched the garage door. "Everybody in. Don't start the truck until I raise the door. I'll jump in and then you need to get us the hell out of here quick."

  Jen stood at the driver's door. "What if it doesn't start?"

  "I'll close the doors and we'll have to figure something else out. We don't have time for experiments."

  Jen nodded. "Let's load up." She slid into the driver's seat.

  Doc climbed in the other side and slid next to Jen. Jen tried to ease her door shut without having it squeak, which was a lost cause. It latched with a clunk and the door didn't close flush. She pulled on it and it rattled. Will this damn thing stay closed? She put her hand on the key and looked at Mark.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  She gave a thumbs-up. Mark rolled the garage door up. A half dozen zombies screeched and sprinted for them and a bloodied biker zombie that had been just outside the door grabbed Mark's collar and yanked him out of the garage.

  25

  Adrenaline kicked in and Jen flipped the handle on the truck door, but it didn't open. "What a piece of shit."

  Mark smashed the mace into the biker's face and kicked it back, knocking it into two other zombies. They collapsed into a pile.

  Doc put a hand on Jen's arm. "Take it easy and try the ignition again."

  His calm and serene shit pissed her off sometimes, but she twisted the key. The engine went whir, whir, then nothing. "Do any of you know how to get this damn thing going?" she screamed.

  "I can," Grant yelled through the window. "I had to baby that Humvee on the way up here. I can do it with this thing, too."

  "Then get in here and do it." Jen rolled down the window and yanked on the outer handle. She pulled her axe as she exited the truck and ran to Mark. He'd just dispatched a skinny zombie in a pair of shorts that drooped to its knees.

  Jen slashed at a balding, middle-aged man with half his face missing, and caught him under the jaw, knocking him backward and splitting what remained of his face.

  The truck engine ground behind her. Guess Grant isn't having any better luck.

  At least two dozen zombies ran onto the street from between two buildings down the road.

  "We're going to have to close the door," Mark yelled.

  Jen reached up and grabbed the handle, but the door was stuck. "Help me."

  Mark dropped a teenage girl who wore a pair of sunglasses that hid her yellow eyes. "Shit's getting worse."

  Jen followed his pointed finger. A pack of zombie dogs streaked onto the road. There had to be ten or more. How the hell do we fight them?

  The truck's engine sputtered and roared. She glanced back and Grant smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. He stuck his head out the window. "Hop in."

  "Mark," Jen yelled. "In the back."

  Mark ran to the back of the truck and vaulted over the side. Jen dove into the bed headfirst, and Mark banged on the side of the truck. "Let's go."

  The truck jerked forward, slamming Jen against the tailgate. Thank god that thing didn't fly open.

  She tried to get to her hands and knees, but the truck made a sharp turn and threw her into the side of the bed. Mark grabbed her under her arms and pulled her up. "Stay away from the sides and be ready."

  She got up on one knee, still holding the axe in a firm grip.

  The cab's back window opened. "Grant needs to know which way to go," Doc said.

  Jen stood and leaned on the top of the truck cab. Zombies flowed out from between buildings, and Grant ran the truck right through them. One grasped the grill and pulled itself to the hood. Jen pulled out her pistol and sent a bullet through its left eye. It disappeared under the truck.

  Jen leaned down to the window. "Go straight until you hit the main street. That's Bragaw. Then turn right and don't let anything stop you. We don't have time to go another way."

  "Jen!"

  She spun. Mark knelt on both knees. A German Shepherd, its fur matted with blood and yellow hate in its eyes, crouched on the bed, ready to pounce. Mark swung at it, but it leapt over the mace and snapped at him, its teeth barely missing his face.

  Damn, that thing's fast.

  Mark backed against one side of the cab, and Jen knelt at the other. The dog sprung at Mark, avoided his mace, and dodged to Jen's side of the bed. She brought the axe down, and it leapt back barely in time.

  The truck's speed had picked up. Jen glanced to see where they were. Twenty feet from the turn. She held the axe handle with both hands and cocked it back over her shoulder. Mark continued to battle the dog. It attacked, retreated, and attacked again in one fluid motion. Mark wouldn't be able to keep up with it for long.

  Just a few more seconds.

  The truck made a hard turn, catching the dog off guard. Knocked off its feet, it was flung into Jen's side of the bed. She brought the axe over her head as fast as she could and hit the dog in the forehead, cracking its skull. It fell to the bed, its legs splayed and tongue draped out of its mouth.

  Mark lay back and blew out a breath while puffing his cheeks. "Holy shit. Nice shot. Can you imagine facing a whole pack of them?"

  Jen looked behind them. The zombies, dogs and humans, fell farther behind. She leaned into the cab's back window. "Nice driving, Grant."

  He beamed.

  "The next major road is Debarr," she said. "Hang a left. We're almost there."

  "You got it."

  She sat down next to Mark. "You OK? No bites?"

  He shook his head. "Damn good thing you were here. I never would've surv
ived that thing."

  "Just luck," she said.

  Mark let out a short laugh. "I've noticed you tend to do things your own way. You were supposed to stay in the cab and drive, but you didn't and it worked out this time. But one of these times, it's going to bite you in the ass." He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "Anyway, thanks."

  The truck wound around a broken-down police cruiser. Its doors were open and dried blood and bits of flesh decorated its windshield. Mark was right. She'd grown up taking care of herself, and had a hard time trusting people she didn't know. But of everyone in their group, she trusted Mark the most, and that's why she'd jumped out to help him. She couldn't afford to lose him.

  The truck slowed and Jen stood to look ahead over the cab. The Debarr intersection was littered with twisted metal and burned corpses. Grant picked his way between the wreckage, the truck jerking and bumping over charred flesh and bone. The smell of burnt meat hung heavy in the air.

  The zombies chasing them seemed to have given up, but as they turned onto Debarr, several more wandered into the road in front of them. The truck cleared the wreckage and Grant gunned it, mowing down three of the zombies in mid-screech. Debarr was almost totally clear, and despite the responding screeches around them, the zombies that poured into the road were too far behind to catch up.

  Jen knocked on the back window. "Keep going straight past the hospital—the road curves—then look for an access road to Merrill Field on your right at the stoplight."

  "How much farther?" Mark asked.

  "If the roads are open, a couple minutes," she said.

  A pileup just past the hospital blocked their way. Grant slowed down and eased the truck over the sidewalk and onto the grass. They reached the access road to Merrill Field a few minutes later and followed the winding road up to the aircraft parking area. When they reached the top of the hill, Grant stopped.

  Jen stood to take in the devastation. It looked like the place had been bombed. Of the few buildings still standing, they were mostly hollowed-out wrecks. The rest were nothing more than blackened ruins. The breeze washed the smell of burnt wood over her.

  Jen's heart sank. "What the hell are we going to do now?"

  26

  A few zombies staggered through the distant charred ruins, but were far enough away that they took no notice of the truck and its occupants.

  Doc shook his head. "The whole place? The whole damn place is gone?"

  Grant got out of the truck and slammed his fist against the side. "I don't fucking believe this. We did everything. We never gave up. And what did we get for it?"

  Doc looked at Jen. "Maybe we shouldn't give up now. Is this all of the field?"

  Jen shaded her eyes and scanned the area. She'd passed Merrill Field a million times on the highway, but had never been on it.

  She tried to find landmarks that were near the highway, but couldn't. The piles of debris were too high. Could there still be undamaged planes they couldn't see from their position?

  "Grant," she said. "Take us around this mess."

  "For what?"

  "We're looking at the flight line, but there may have been some aircraft parked by the buildings near the highway."

  Mark raised his head. "Hell, yeah. They could be parked for maintenance, or loading and unloading. Why didn't I think of that?"

  Grant swung his door open and jumped into the truck. Doc hopped in the other side. "Never give up hope," he said.

  God, I wish he'd quit that.

  Grant put the truck in gear and steered it to the left, past the charred remains of several planes and a helicopter. A zombie ran at them from behind a pile of debris. When he grasped the tailgate, Jen knocked his head in with the axe.

  They drove up a rise and around a collapsed building, and the rest of the airfield opened before them.

  Most of it was in the same condition as what they'd already seen—destroyed buildings and planes. Burned bodies and vehicles.

  "There," Mark yelled. He pointed to a small building near the highway. All that remained on one side of it was the foundation, but the other side of the building looked untouched.

  In front of it stood five planes. The two nearest the wrecked side of the building were non-flying, with one missing a wing that looked like it had snapped off, and another that was missing a wheel and tilted to the side.

  The other three looked untouched.

  Grant jammed the gas pedal to the floor, and Jen fell on her ass in the bed. Mark thrust out a hand and pulled her back to her feet.

  "I'm not even pissed," she said. "Things are finally going our way."

  "Don't get your hopes up too far," Mark said. "We still have to find keys, and the engines have to turn over."

  Jen nodded. "And in good repair, right?"

  "We may have to accept some risk," he said. "We've got minutes to get up and fly to JBER. If there's a sticky control or something else I think I can handle for the short flight, I'll take her up."

  The truck came to a stop several feet from the single-engine plane on the end. Mark jumped out of the bed and jogged to it.

  He opened a door and leaned in. "Everything looks good so far."

  "Not that I'm one to worry," Doc said, "but aren't you supposed to do some type of preflight?"

  "No time to do a detailed look," Mark said. "Besides, I don't want to take too long with each of them. I'd rather find the keys and see which one we're getting before I spend the time."

  Mark checked out the next plane, another single-engine plane with the wings overhead. The door stood open and he poked his head in. "Same here."

  He turned toward the last plane, an older looking two-engine model. He propped his hands on his hips. "Don't bother with that one."

  Jen stepped next to him. "Why?"

  He pointed to a puddle beneath it. "Oil. We don't have time to troubleshoot."

  Grant had walked toward the building, rifle slung over his back and sword in hand. "Any keys should be in there, no? Let's hope they weren't all in that part that was blown away."

  Jen squinted at the building. The side that still stood was dark and at an angle where the sun didn't penetrate very far. "I don't think Doc should be going anywhere near that."

  Mark looked at the building, then Doc. "Agreed. Grant and I will go in. You stay here with Doc and keep him safe."

  "Me? How about Grant sits this one out."

  "I don't trust his judgment and abilities as much as I do yours."

  Jen stood chest-to-chest with Mark. "All the more reason I should have your back."

  Mark shook his head. "Getting Doc to the base is our mission. Besides, do you think the military will take us without him?"

  Damn, if he doesn't make sense. I freaking hate it, but he's right.

  Mark ran over to Grant and together they jogged to the building. Jen approached the truck where Doc waited. "You and I will hang out here. Watch their backs."

  Doc leaned against the truck and laid his rifle in the bed. "We're not watching anything. Y'all are just trying to keep me bubble-wrapped."

  "Does that bother you?"

  Doc laughed. "Not a bit." His face got serious and he said, "Dammit, Jim. I'm a bio scientist, not a warrior."

  Jen laughed. For the first time since all hell had broken loose, she thought about a future. She'd love to work with Doc once they got the hell out of there. And I'll bet he'd go for it, too.

  Mark and Grant disappeared into the building, their flashlight beams playing on the walls.

  Jen leaned against the side of the truck, crossed her arms on top of it, and laid her head down. When had she last slept? She'd been so hyped up, she hadn't felt tired. But the adrenaline level had to be dropping. Her eyelids grew heavy.

  Someone shook her arm. Had she fallen asleep? She straightened. Doc pointed to the highway, not far from the building. A dozen zombies shambled down the road and were on track to pass right by the building. If Mark or Grant made too much noise, it would attract them. Maybe even the
ir flashlight beams would do it.

  They had to be warned. Jen spotted a door at the other end of the building. She could enter there unseen by the horde and warn Mark and Grant.

  She bit her lip. But what would she do with Doc? She'd stayed back with him to keep him safe. None of the buildings were closer than thirty yards or so, and nothing stirred within or between them.

  "Doc," she said, "I need you to get in the truck and wait for me."

  "Where are y'all going?"

  She pointed to the building door. "I'll slip in there, let the guys know what's coming, and be right back here before you know it."

  "I'll come with you."

  She shook her head. "No way. You're our ace in the hole for getting out of here. Plus, you have info that might help with a cure. You're too important."

  Doc sighed. "OK. But take it easy and be careful. I was hoping when this is over that you might come work with me."

  Jen's mouth opened, but she couldn't think of a thing to say. He wanted to work with her? She nodded and pointed to the truck. Doc smiled and climbed in the driver's side.

  The zombies on the highway had staggered closer. Jen would have to take a wide angle to get to the door so they wouldn't detect her. She ran to the ruins of a firetruck ten yards away, then darted behind a bent and twisted pair of dumpsters. From that spot, she was blocked from the zombies' view.

  She sprinted for the door and pressed her back to the wall beside it. Doc sat in the truck and gave her a wave. She waved back. She had her rifle slung across her back and the axe ready to swing. She twisted the knob.

  Locked.

  Shit.

  The door had a window, but its blinds were down. She tried to peek through them, but saw nothing but darkness.

  Smashing the window would make too much noise and probably alert the zombies she was trying to warn the others about.

  Only one other choice.

  She raised the axe overhead and brought it down on the door knob. It popped off and spun away on the asphalt. She pushed on the door, but it didn't budge. Damn dead bolt.

  She cocked an ear. Shuffling, but no growls.